Among the breakthroughs are lots and lots of ordinary things, laid out very unobtrusively. But these are necessary, too. For the human heart can’t typically thrum at a constantly elevated vibration. What we need are periods of stability and calm to support us when it’s time to soar.
Have you ever caught yourself in a place of in-between?
In a place of suspended judgment and, perhaps, bewildering confusion? It’s a familiar place, and yet uncomfortable; it certainly doesn’t feel familiar, for nothing feels at home.
How do you get out? By making a choice, I suppose. But what if the choice you make is wrong? Perhaps GOD will give you a way back out, a way to de-commit. But what if you’re bound forever to a path you’d rather not have chosen? What if you’ve said a permanent goodbye to another life you might have loved? So many possible lives, so many consequences of choosing (or not choosing).
Perhaps it’s all the same in the end. You end up being formed by your choices. But what if the particulars don’t matter so much as the larger patterns and principles – the acts of kindness, the demonstrations of love?
And yet, the particulars do matter. I know they do. It’s just that there’s a less regimented way of understanding all of this, and that’s the better way.
It’s late and I don’t know exactly what I’m saying. Maybe you can put it better. Because, somehow, I think you’ll know precisely what I mean.
My World Traveler wall calendar. July is Italy. 🙂
Also, a few memorable and moving renditions of the National Anthem for you to watch on this Fourth of July:
May the people of the United States remember the goodness of their country and find increased unity in the midst of deep disagreements. God bless America.
Five thousand yards deep, a soul makes a sound. No one can hear it except for the One Whose Unutterable Name was the reason for such anguished groaning – almost as if the secret of the soul were meant to be heard by Love Alone.
(Image: a journal drawing I did, probably in imitation of a piece of art I’d seen and liked.)
Arm yourself with poppies, for we are walking into a wild grove.
Sing in your loudest voice, I in my softest –
for together, we are sweeter than honey from the comb.
(Image: my drawing of a poppy – or “papavero,” in Italian.)
A sketch I did while traveling in Assisi, Italy, in 2018. On the same page, I’d written a few words as I was sitting before the tomb of St. Francis of Assisi: “PAX. Peace of the LORD be upon you. / The winds of hope blow past your door. / The sands of joy enrobe your feet. / The sun of love warms your face and invites you to be free.”